


Cracked mirrors

by mugiji (shichan)



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, not really a romantic relationship but well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 23:53:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14580414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shichan/pseuds/mugiji
Summary: Ginoza never lets their hands brush casually like lovers do, because they are not.





	Cracked mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to try and write about two of my favourite characters.  
> This takes place after S1 but before S2.
> 
> English is not my native language and this wasn't proof-readed so I apologise if it's a bit hard to read because of some mistakes or the way I phrase things (´-﹏-`；)

Sometimes they share the couch in Ginoza’s room: there are days that are just like that, where Tsunemori goes there when she’s finished her work and they sit next to each other, eating together. Sometimes they drink - never too much but enough - and have some small talk. There are nights full of comfortable silence when they end up just enjoying the other’s company. Tsunemori rarely stays until dawn, but when it happens Ginoza lets her rest her head against his shoulder and stays still - at times he dozes off, his cheek resting on Tsunemori’s head, her scent slightly nurturing him.   
The next morning they exchange greetings as always; they never overstep boundaries but they are never too stiff and pass each other naturally.    
They coexist just fine, two puzzle’s pieces that match almost too perfectly.

  
Ginoza never lets their hands brush casually like lovers do, because they are not. Both Tsunemori and him don’t have days in which they feel the despair so much that they need to be conscious of the other’s presence next to them. He slowly understood that they trust each other to the point where they can be separated during work without overreact - and, at the same time, they watch out for the other like it’s unnatural to not do it.   
To Ginoza the concept of “protecting people” has always been vague; maybe it was unavoidable when he was an Inspector: “to protect” was his job and it was abstract. “To protect” the people. The city. The system. The law. It has never had a name, a face. And yet he has the feeling that he (at least tries to) protects Tsunemori as much as she does for him.    
It rarely happens, but sometimes they join their hands briefly -  _ I am still here. I’m alive. I’m not lost. Everything’s alright.  _ _  
_ _ We will survive. _

  
Investigations are okay most of the times. There are occasions, though, that remind him of when they were fighting against all odds to catch Makishima before Kougami: that was the first time Ginoza looked at Tsunemori and saw his former partner. Those days the feeling still lingers there and some of Tsunemori’s gestures and reasonings make her look like Kougami a lot. It’s not a matter of what Ginoza  _ wants to see _ , but about a presence that engraved itself on another person. Tsunemori was a white sheet and Kougami revealed himself as a sloppy writer - he dropped a big glass of water on the sheet, and it doesn’t matter if it didn’t leave a stain. The sheet absorbed all the water. If you touch the paper, you will notice it will never be the same as before.   
When Ginoza notices all this over and over again, he feels restless somehow.   
He wonders if this ever happens to Tsunemori when she looks at him.

  
Tsunemori lazily slides her finger on the virtual display and the journalist’s voice is replaced immediately by the laughing of a variety show. She does it again, and a reporter talking about fashion takes the place of a coloured background and loud atmosphere. In the end she switches it off, a slightly unsatisfied expression on her face.   
Ginoza offers her the usual drink they share and sits down beside her after Tsunemori takes the glass from his hand. Once they are next to each other, she lets her free hand slide into Ginoza’s. He doesn’t reject her, not even when she slowly intertwines their fingers.   
There’s no malice nor some kind of implied suggestion and that’s the reason why it worked just fine between them until now.   
«Is it alright to pair you up with Inspector Shimotsuki tomorrow too, Ginoza-san?»   
«You don’t need to ask me, Tsunemori.»   
He’s grateful though; he knows she’s being considerate by doing so. Yet, it’s unnecessary: she could even order him and he would do it without a problem. At least their job requires it.   
«I know.»   
She slowly breathes in and out, tired. It’s easy to notice, all the more if she lets him to.   
«If you are too tired I can offer you a bed, at least.»   
«I can’t» she says, no embarrassment in her voice «my shift tomorrow starts at eleven, so before that I have some business I need to take care of.» she explains and Ginoza doesn’t insist, knowing that she’s refusing because she really has something to do. It’s not because of some weird atmosphere between a man and a woman after that kind of invitation.   
They don’t have a desire for each other; none of them has ever mentioned nor wanted to have sex with the other.   
«But thank you.» she adds with a kind, soft smile that makes her look younger. She finishes all the drink in one go and puts the glass on the small table. She squeezes his hand a little before she lets it go and stands up.   
He’s about to do the same when Tsunemori closes the distance between them, a small, chaste kiss on his lips. He moves his free hand just to brush it against her cheek, an affectionate gesture that has nothing to do with what lovers do.   
It’s not their first kiss. Some of them are small pecks, some are slow and warm. Never uncomfortable, always a bit sad.   
She distances herself a little, looks at him for a moment and then moves with a simple «I know the way.» and a small smile.   
It’s not coldness, Ginoza thought the first time, recognising what it was instead. When Tsunemori looks at him, she sees a former Inspector ( _ like Kougami _ ) who became an Enforcer ( _ like Kougami _ ) and that she doesn’t want to lose ( _ not again, not this time _ ). When he looks at Tsunemori, he sees something similar: an Inspector who was his partner for a while ( _ like Kougami _ ), someone he doesn’t want to become an Enforcer ( _ like Kougami _ ) and that he doesn’t want to lose ( _ he already lost too many former Inspectors _ ).   
What they mean to each other is far more complicated that lovers, or partners, or friends.   
They are cracked mirrors.


End file.
